Fair Play
by SoundsRight
Summary: There would always be two sides in a game, and there would be a number of rules to follow. Sometimes, though, that is just what makes everything much boring. Rated T for language and implications. England/Japan.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.  
Note: I would be using their character names, mostly. This is an AU fic—a very AU one. Also, I would like to apologize early for any out of character behaviour and/or poor plotting.**

**Warning****: This is a BL (BoysLove) fic. If you are not interested or strongly against it, I insist that you should look for something else to read. Thank You.  
**

..

Kiku couldn't help but feel a bit uneasy with his surroundings—he still couldn't get quite used to his new home. Even if the place had some of the up-to-date furniture from Japan, it still looks as if he was just browsing inside a furnishing store. The whole thing looked a bit fancy for his liking.

He _did_ live in a traditional Japanese home, after all (finding that there was no _genkan_ here made it all the more unfamiliar and foreign); seeing the very modern styles in home living seemed a little bit… _odd_ compared to what he's used to living in for all his life. Kiku looked around the great room to take in its unfamiliar aspects for the umpteenth time.

There is a couch and a small coffee table on one part of the room, and then there is a dining table with matching chairs on the other (complete with a kitchen by it). Between the two sides, there is a stairway which is believed to lead to the bedroom. The walls are of a rich, beige colour, and the floor is made of dark wood. In the middle of the simple furnished place, there is a white (faux?) fur rug—it's a bit of a clashing piece, isn't it?

The room that he is standing in, though, is not what he had bought—someone else bought this place for him. It was in courtesy of his dear, easy-going friend, Feliciano Vargas. "This is a gift for making you come and work with me in Italy, ve?" his Italian friend would say in that usual enthusiastic tone of voice.

Admittedly, Feliciano did do a wonderful job in finding a place that was literally just beside the long canal that passed through Venice—what was its name, again? On the other hand, the window in his room did not show a fantastic view of the city; it was the brick wall of another apartment, really. Well, Kiku decided that the other did well since the low hum of the boats' engines that pass by had been the main source that lulls him into easy sleep.

Everything has its ups and downs, after all. Nothing goes _entire_ly your way.

It had been nearly a week since he had moved to Italy; it's a nice place, he'll admit to that—it's a very fascinating country, as well. The food and culture here is obviously different from the things he'd normally be accustomed to, but he guessed that it's kind of like a nice change in pace (a little adventure, maybe).

Suddenly walking to the small kitchen at the far end of the room, Kiku soon took out the fresh supply of raw meats and vegetables from the plastic bags he was carrying and placed them into the previously empty fridge. The things he bought, now that he thought about it, weren't really of the best quality since it's already the end of the day (everything is much better bought in the morning); it's still alright, he supposed. He will still try to shop a bit earlier, though.

The man is now staring off into space, but some people would think that his attention was on the oddly-shaped potato (it kind of looks like a shoe). His mind wandered into thinking what kinds of dishes he would be able to prepare tomorrow. It would have to be something quick to prepare since he has another early meeting at his workplace.

The only means of transportation is either walking or running, and it was a good thing that the building was only a few minutes away.

Quickly deciding on what he'll have to eat on the following day, Kiku closed the refrigerator and proceeded up the staircase found in the middle of the great room. Opening the door at the top, it showed the obvious expectation that it is the bedroom. The man unexpectedly turned to his right—there is yet another door. As he opened it, it revealed that it is the bathroom.

Casually going inside, he prepared himself for the night ahead of him. Going out of the bathroom, Kiku went straight for the large bed that seemed to be that of a king's; it is as white as the rug in the great room. Beside the bed is an end table (which looks to be made by the same wood as of the floor) that held up a bronze lamp with a white lampshade.

The lamp looks as if it were a really expensive antique; it actually may be the case. Where Feliciano had found all the furniture in this apartment, Kiku had no idea. Knowing that, it made the slight fear of damaging it even more unthinkable. The man told himself to rarely use the thing.

Now submitting himself into bed, Kiku was already entering the state of unconsciousness without another second to spare. As he was about to sleep, he heard the murmur of a boat's engine outside—it suddenly slowed and the sound became barely audible. A few seconds later, the sound had started again and drifted away until it could no longer be heard.

Kiku hadn't bothered himself with what had just happened; it was somewhat usual for him.

The Japanese man soon heard sounds coming from where his bedroom window is. He then realised that he had yet to close it and that the wind must be causing the sounds. Slowly stirring himself awake, Kiku soundlessly shifted under the bed sheets and sat up.

The room is soon illuminated with the dim lighting of the lamp beside him—it had been switched on.

Turning his head to the side, Kiku found himself looking straight into the eyes of another. He blinked twice before fully understanding that there really was someone else in his room—the stranger is a blond man with green eyes…wearing a dark-coloured suit and gloves… in one hand, there held a pair of shoes.

The other was looking at the Japanese man with an inquiring expression on his face (as if to ask: 'who are you?'). For some reason, Kiku couldn't bring himself to move and pin the intruder down. With all that experience of various martial arts in his belt, he chose to observe the stranger—not a very wise thing to do, obviously.

He couldn't help it, though. The other did not give off that he is planning to harm Kiku; there was just this semi-awkward silence of sheer curiosity between them. It was like that of two children meeting for the first time, maybe.

Why are there so many things that he could not help himself to, the Japanese man began to wonder.

A quick second had passed, and the blond man soon had somewhat of a smug look on his face. "You're not much of a good flat mate, are you?" Kiku recognized that the other was speaking in English—

"Have you never been taught to ask for one's permission?"  
"Eh?"  
"You're sleeping in _my bed_."


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.  
Note: I would be using their character names, mostly. This is an AU fic—a very AU one. Also, I would like to apologize early for any out of character behaviour and/or poor plotting.  
**

..

"_Have you never been taught to ask for one's permission?"  
"Eh?"  
"You're sleeping in my bed." _

Kiku only continued to stare at the odd man in front of him; the stranger raised a thick brow and then sighed in knowing that it's much better to give up asking questions (or saying anything, for the matter). Unexpectedly going a little closer to the Japanese man, the blond man only wanted to try and talk to the other—he's now landed, face down, on the bed.

The other couldn't recall the Japanese man grabbing his arm, hurling him over his shoulder and pinning him down into the current position at present. All he could note was the slight pain on both shoulders, really.

The smaller man held both of the other's arms against his back and sat on top of the stranger. The intruder grunted uncomfortably as he tried to struggle from the other's firm grasp. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not a _bender_, you arse bandit" the blond man said awkwardly but managed to let out a small chuckle. "Mind letting me go?"  
"Who are you?"  
"My name is William Craig."  
"…What are you doing here?"  
"I'll get to that the minute you get off of me."

Short quiet moments had already passed, but Kiku only lessened his grip (rather hesitantly) on the other. A few more seconds have passed by, and the blond man decided best to try his luck on struggling free once more—now he finds himself on his elbows whilst facing the Japanese man straddling him. "You're rather dim, aren't you?"  
"Please tell me why you are here."  
"I live here, actually."  
"…Why was my friend able to buy this place?"  
"The old bastard of a landlord here despises me, and I haven't paid my rent from three weeks ago."  
"Then this is not your place, anymore."  
"These are _my_ things, are they not?"  
"…That still does not prove anything."  
"Who said that I was proving _any_thing, in the first place?"

William suddenly grabbed one of the four pillows on the bed and was finally able to get away from the Japanese man. Once again, the blond man was standing by the bed as if nothing had happened—"How about we continue this later on?"

Already out of the room, the taller man closed the door behind him before hearing anything from the befuddled other. The man soon went down the stairs and practically felt his way towards the couch in the great room.

Walking somewhat briskly, he almost tripped from the rug that he swore wasn't there before. The man cursed lightly and continued walking over to the couch. He was rather thankful of the moonlight that badly lit the room; he could figure out where some things were from their outlining. It's really not much of a surprise that William knows where things are like the back of his hand.

This is his home, after all—he can really prove this to everyone by just getting noticed by this landlord of his; the old man would hound anyone in harsh questions about last month's rent that was late by a mere second (a tight fisted man, he is).

Any person could now see why William had snuck in through the bedroom window (this would have to be the first time, though).

The placement of _his_ furniture didn't change, it seems (that damned rug is a new addition, so it's not his). Whoever else walked in this apartment must have the same sense of style he has—he then doubts it. The place is so small and cramped that moving anything else would be very much disastrous and highly inconvenient; it would be sort of much to the point that you couldn't walk anywhere unless you jump over one thing or another.

Well, if you were to describe the place in an exaggerating manner…that would be what you'll hear. In reality, the whole place is alright for one person to live it; two people would be a little bothersome—unless you're a couple or really good friends that can finish each other's sentences.

Three people (or more) would simply be too much—unless you're _real_ close to one another. Other than that, the apartment is fine and might be just what you'll need as your little retreat from reality's toughest challenges.

Finally able to find and sit on the couch, William noticed that the upholster felt a bit different; it wasn't the tough leather feel, anymore (oh, it was still leather—just much smoother). He jumped in his seat twice and heard the familiar, characteristic creak that it would make.

The man smirked in approval to find out that his things are still _his_ _things_. He is now sure that the low coffee table in front of him still has its one leg shorter than the other three, and the only reason why it is levelled was because of the added piece of wood he nailed in.

The blond man might even check to see if it was still there.

A lot more of his things had their small oddities, but most of them were "young" antiques and were bought in good deals. Actually, this would have to be one of the less exquisite homes he owns. This would probably be his cheapest one, yet.

That probably explains the simple furnishing of the abode.

William started to wonder if there had been any more changes since he had last been here (which was actually for more than two years, really…he pays via mail). He then decided that he could finally find out about everything tomorrow—when the room becomes more lighted and when he felt less weary.

Travelling non-stop for two days (without any sufficient time to rest) _does_ take its toll on a person, after all.

**..**

**I know what I'm going to ask is a bit silly, but do you think our intruder sounds English enough?  
I also think that he's a little out of character, but I'm trying out his more "un-gentleman-ly" side.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.  
Note: I would be using their character names, mostly. This is an AU fic—a very AU one. Also, I would like to apologize early for any out of character behaviour and/or poor plotting.**

..

_Travelling non-stop for two days (without any sufficient time to rest) __does__ take its toll on a person, after all._

The warm light of the sun passes through the window easily—it had not been closed, at all. Kiku looks at the glass doors and walks over to them to close it. So, this was the reason why the room had felt cooler. He neither yawns crudely nor sheepishly rubs his eyes as he continued to stand by the window; the man simply turns his head to find a pair of shoes that are shamelessly left on the floor.

He knows that they are not his; it belongs to the strange man that broke into the apartment a few hours ago (the meeting happened somewhere past midnight, he estimated). Kiku found it odd that he actually allowed the stranger to sleep here as if the other is just an old friend of his, but William did say that they will sort this out. Hopefully, though, the former owner would have to leave.

Going into the bathroom, Kiku sharply closed its door as if he was shutting it in front of someone's face.

Downstairs, William is awake and reading an Italian newspaper—more like scanning, really. There would be some articles in the local language, and there would be others that would be in English; that's usually the international news.

William reads one of the articles that seem to have interest him the most—it's about a man responsible for a number of thefts and frauds (it's in English). Well, the thefts were more like misplacing prized stones and national treasures; one thing would be found in another country's museum or home.

"It's a game," the blond man mumbled amusingly to himself.

In what it is said on the newspaper, the latest '_steals_' were from a museum in Taiwan. Even if two of the thousands of artefacts were '_moved'_ (all the way to Spain), the criminal is already regarded as one of the most devious of thieves. The security of this '_National_ _Palace'_ is rumoured to be nearly impenetrable, after all.

The more one reads about the article, the more everything sounds as if the criminal is just doing a harmless prank. Ah, but now it mentions about the man's previous thefts—some of the treasures are still missing; a few things were mostly of fine jewellery, priceless portraits and vases.

Suddenly hearing a door close, William looked up to see Kiku (with a business bag in one hand) walking down the narrow staircase of the apartment. When the Japanese man saw the other sitting on the couch, he tersely greeted the man and hurried towards the rather compact kitchen.

The Englishman instantly assumed Kiku to be a businessman; the other is also wearing formal attire.

To the smaller man's surprise (that's kind of overestimating things, really), he noticed a plate of dry toast on the counter. He curiously looked at the blond man— "William, where were you able to buy bread?"  
"The woman next door is quite the generous one, she is. She can act like a mother, but she's also a bit of a tart."  
"…I could make something—"  
"Bollocks. Toast is the quickest meal you can get, I'm sure. Besides, I made too much of it—you might as well not waste it."

The Englishman's face is soon hidden behind the newspaper in his hands; is there another article that caught his eye, or is it the advertisement with the woman in a bikini? Everyone else could only guess, really.

Kiku glanced at the food and finally decided to eat it. Though it looks to be a bit burnt, it still seems edible enough to eat. Thanking the other rather passively, the smaller man took a bite—

It has a rather… _unique_ taste, he'll admit. The bread must obviously be of a foreign brand; he is in another country, after all. Not everything is meant to taste the same— he could only tell himself that as he continued to eat the food off from his plate.

For the most observant of people, they could point out the very subtle reluctance in every bite that the Japanese man had made.

Finishing up his small meal (and washing the dish soon after), the smaller man looked around to see that the other wasn't there anymore; it looks as if the person had disappeared. The newspaper that the Englishman held was left on the coffee table as if no one had touched it, at all. Before the thought of searching for the taller man was in his mind, Kiku could faintly hear the sound of running water.

Isn't that a little rude of the Englishman? But then again, he insists that this is still his home (so why bother?). It's just a bit of a wonder if the other has any other clothes to wear, though—probably not.

The Japanese man thought best not to think any further about it.

Knowing that the other wouldn't care, Kiku wordlessly made his was out of the apartment to go to work—he's running a bit late. On his way out, he saw a woman locking the door of her own apartment. That must be the same neighbour William had mentioned about, he thought.

The woman noticed Kiku then smiled and waved at him before leaving the complex, herself (rather briskly, though). On one shoulder, she seems to be carrying a bag meant for cameras and the like—she's obviously a photographer.

Finally on the empty streets of Italy (the rushing neighbour is nowhere to be found), the morning sun and the cool winds could be felt almost immediately. The Japanese man remembered that it would become much colder in the next few months, yet he hasn't brought a decent coat for the incoming weather.

Well, Feliciano _did_ say something about him not needing to bring much to Italy—his clothes and other necessities were already provided for him. "It's part of the gift," he might say.

Still on his way towards his workplace, Kiku didn't notice the small bin bag in the first alleyway that is near his apartment. Completely passing it, a tiny flock of birds had begun ripping the bag open to reveal a number of blackened toasts—

Not much of it was eaten, though.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.  
Note: I would be using their character names, mostly. This is an AU fic—a very AU one. Also, I would like to apologize early for any out of character behaviour and/or poor plotting.**

..

_Not much of it was eaten, though._

Back inside the apartment, William is now done with his bath and is looking at the mirror in front of him. He leans closer towards the glass to see if anything is wrong with his hair—he found none. The man then glanced back at the tub to see a tiny puddle of brown inside; he immediately took the shower head and washed the liquid down the drain.

Unsure if there was such a dye (as of the colour in the tub) on him, William checks his hair once more to find that every tress he could see is its supposed natural blond colour. Still being cautious, the Englishman looked at his body for any smidges of the colorant—again, he found none.

Happy with himself, he walked out of the bathroom whilst wrapping a small bath towel around his waist.

The first thing he headed for in the bedroom was the nailed in dresser at one side of the room. It looks to be brand new with its shiny coat of varnish, but that old thing had been there even before William had bought this place. It's probably been there before the apartment itself had been built.

The Englishman then pulled out the top drawer until it was detached from the dresser—he put it on the floor and proceeded to do the same with the others. Only then when he placed the last one on the floor did he notice that the clothes had the same label on them. In all of the shirts and bottoms neatly packed inside, there would be a small, white label with the initials: '_FV'_ on them (the lettering even looks as if it were individually stitched in!).

Thinking about the Japanese man, William didn't find the other to be such a loyal fan of one designer—he quickly shrugged it off; it's not his business, anyway.

Now looking at the empty dresser in front of him, it revealed (to his relief) a small door-like cover is seen at the very back. Opening its door, there seems to be a bag wrapped in a plastic cover that looks as if it had been there since yesterday. Removing the plastic and unzipping the bag, a set of clothes was found inside of it.

As it sounds a little disgusting, it's actually far better off for him than chancing to wear Kiku's clothes (not to mention underwear)—the other is smaller than him, and the clothes seem to be fitted. It would also be no doubt that the other would recognize his own clothes being worn by the Englishman.

William _does_ have a sense of decency in him, mind you. Besides, the clothes still looks brand new.

Before doing anything else, William re-arranges the drawers of the dresser so as to the fact that there would be more room to walk in. He then goes back to his bag and pulls out a simple pair of jeans, a dark-coloured shirt, socks and a pair of shoes. As he puts them on, he notices that there is actually a small tear in his jeans.

…It's not _too_ noticeable, anyways—no need to whinge about it.

Though in all honesty, he'll admit, William would prefer to wear something a bit sharper and rather sophisticated; this _was_ packed up two years ago, nevertheless. Let it be known that he had a… _some_what different sense of style, back then.

Besides, wearing these kinds of clothes is actually quite timeless and acceptable. It's still alright; no one would suspect him to be much of a solitary person while wearing this simple attire (it kind of makes him look like someone who's outgoing, actually)—

The Englishman stopped in thought before he had the chance to count the number of friends he (_thinks_ he) really has.

Going to the bathroom once more, he picked up his other clothes and stuffed them in the bag he was holding up. Looking at the counter, he saw his wallet, a hard, plastic bottle filled with whatever is inside of it (though one would suspect it to be medicine since it looks to be so), a lighter and a small container of some sort—it's like the ones you put contact lenses in.

Pocketing the wallet and lighter, putting the small case in the bag then picking up the bottle, he went out to the bedroom to look for his shoes.

With what he was wearing last night now packed inside the bag, William heads out of the apartment with only being able to lock the knob of the door (the key is with Kiku, obviously). Nearly crossing paths with the old, landlord by a few moments later, the Englishman is now on his way in the same direction where the Japanese man had just walked on.

A few meters away from the apartment and the first alleyway, there is an even narrower alley just between two (yet to be opened) shops—the Englishman stopped in his tracks by the passageway.

Making sure that no one was around, William drops the bag he held in the dark lane and opens the bottle in hand to reveal the crude stench of petrol. Crouching in front of the bag and pouring the bottle's contents until it was no more, the Englishman stood up whilst picking up a piece of paper of some advertisement that littered the disgusting cement floor.

Rolling up the paper and lighting it with his lighter, William drops the burning advertisement onto the (very flammable) bag. It only took a few quick moments before everything was engulfed by flames.

The Englishman quickly kicked the bag over to another side and the fire only grew larger in its unsatisfied hunger; the grey smoke coming out of it begins to surround the man as if it were asking for more things to be burned— he, of course, pays no heed to it.

Done with his personal deed, William leaves the alleyway on the opposite side from where he came. He looks to be without any worry in him—he knows that that alley is practically abandoned and that place is usually where people tend to burn things like what he did (except, it was more of trash than clothes and polished shoes).

Ignoring the fact that the smell of smoke was beginning to waft up from behind him, the Englishman finds himself somewhere near the open market that was having the same atmosphere of its sleepy vendors.

Deciding to try and lose the stench of petrol and smoke (and whatever foul odour was back in the alleyway) on him, William walks towards the stalls of fresh and bountiful food ahead of him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.  
Note: I would be using their character names, mostly. This is an AU fic—a very AU one. Also, I would like to apologize early for any out of character behaviour and/or poor plotting.**

..

_Deciding to try and lose the stench of petrol and smoke (and whatever foul odour was back in the alleyway) on him, William walks towards the stalls of fresh and bountiful food ahead of him._

As one walks towards the middle of the marketplace, they could find a wide, open space with a few numbers of tables and chairs by the centre of it all. Sitting by one table, there is an old woman reading a book; on another, there are three men—the two brunets looked as if they were in a disagreement of some sort, but the taller blond sat quietly with an annoyed look on his face.

It seems a little bit too early for an argument, wouldn't anyone else agree?

Slightly curious to know what was going on, William decides to walk towards their direction as if he was just passing by. Getting nearer to the other three, he could hear both familiar and unfamiliar words of Italian bouncing between the two brunet men—"_Quell'uomo…merda—non posso lavorare così tanto!"_

The one who had said that looks to be someone one could easily anger; the other, however, looks a bit carefree and rather simple-minded. Both of the Italians are wearing clothes that are in the latest trends in Italy while the third man is sporting a suit...one could (easily) tell that the third one tends to be stern and serious.

As William becomes more interested with the other three, he decides to stay for a little longer—maybe they would do something entertaining. The Englishman sits on a chair that is just two tables away from them. Glancing at the talking two, he concludes that those two are brothers…the stray hair that curls at the end that each of them has is_ surely_ something responsible from genetics.

The other blond soon notices (almost immediately) the Englishman looking at their way, but he is then yelled at by one of the other two sitting with him at the table. "_You_'re the one who did it, I just know it!"  
"Romano, Ludwig will _never_ do such a thing—_sono contrario!_"

The two Italians went back into speaking their native language, again. The man referred to as 'Ludwig' sighs deeply— you could now tell that he is of another nationality, as well.

The talk about this man who is in trouble (William could only understand as much Italian as that) seems to be going in circles. Romano would continuously accuse Ludwig while the brother—who is now known as 'Veneziano'— would, in turn, disagree with the other Italian. As the argument goes from one minute to the next, the Englishman is already completely bored with them.

Standing up from his chair, William now sees all of the many stalls around him open for business. He assumes that the time now is somewhere around eight, or so—he's been here long enough to know when shops usually open (which doesn't take much time to figure out, really).

Already walking towards a random direction, William now notices someone approaching the three men; he knows that another person has joined the group, but the Englishman didn't bother to look at who it is—his mind is now thinking about a clothes shop that he might be able to buy at.

He did burn his other set of clothes down at the alleyway, remember? It would also be very much inconvenient for him to walk (practically naked) around his apartment whenever he should wash the clothes he is currently wearing. Also, it's beginning to become a bit cool; he has no jacket or coat, whatsoever.

"…William?" a familiar voice blurts out. The Englishman turns to see that it was actually Kiku who has entered the scene. Giving a small wave at the other, William now gets the attention of the other three that he was listening to (he really wasn't _eavesdropping_ … he just wanted to have a little fun in the morning. Besides, their voices could be heard even _if_ he hadn't bothered himself into hearing them).

Suddenly, one of the Italians—Veneziano, was it?—comes up to William and looks at him with curious, child-like eyes. He looks at the Englishman's face then slowly looks down as if to see what the other's shoes are; he then moves to face the taller man's back and runs his hands on the other like an artist would as they shape a clay sculpture.

Evidently uncomfortable with it, William looks questionably at the others as if begging to hear a reasonable explanation from them—Romano shouts a few questions at his brother, Kiku only continues to look oddly at Veneziano, and Ludwig's expression looks to be as if he's seen this before and it's just an everyday occurrence to him.

Whether Ludwig's look should make William feel better or not, no one was sure. The Englishman blushes awkwardly as the other's hands touch his waist then goes down to his legs.

As the inspection (William will have no other word call it as) is done, the Italian begins to look at the other as if making a decision of some sort. With a wide smile—he grabs the Englishman and starts pulling him into another direction. "You need a bit of work, but I want you to try something on, ve?"

--

The next thing the Englishman knew was that he is now shoved into a room whilst having to carry a careless pile of clothes in his arms. As the door closes, he looks around and sees that the place does not look very much like stereotypical twenty-first century business headquarters (he asked); it just looks like a room meant to be in a magazine.

Looking at the shirt he was given to wear, the same label as the ones found on Kiku's clothes could easily be spotted in contrast with the dark colour of the fabric. No wonder why the other's clothes were from one designer—his friend (and boss) is the one who made them.

Not only does William realise that Veneziano is also '_Feliciano'_ (and that Romano is 'Lovino'), he knows that the Italian runs a multi-million dollar company; he also recalls hearing that that person is also the grandson of a former politician—

In short, the Englishman has walked right into a rich man's territory. That's rather lucky of him.

Suddenly, his eyes stop at a binder that lay on an end table. He soon goes over to it and flips it open—two individual pictures of women wearing intricate clothing are posing like the professionals they are meant to be (William knows that these are obviously models).

He turns the pages a few more times only to stop at the photo of a man with brown hair and matching brown eyes. The model is smiling broadly at the camera whilst carrying a wicker basket full of tomatoes; the background turns out to be a vast plantation of the same berries, fruits or whatever it really is. Unlike the previous pages, however, the picture looks as if the man was photographed showing a candid side of him—as if he hadn't been told that someone was about to take a photo of him.

If that's so, then why is it that the smiling man's picture is in the binder? The Englishman turns the pages once more to take note that the candid air is consistently felt in every photo where the model is in. He closes the binder to change into the clothes that was now scattered on the floor—

William now notices a picture frame at the same end table; Feliciano is caught waving at the camera, and the model is hugging a scowling Lovino from behind (neither of them are looking at the camera... it must have been what a person would consider calling a 'stolen shot'). The Englishman realises one more thing then smirks amusingly to himself as he looks more into the background that shows a familiar Spanish mansion.

Ah, it's the same person he framed— "Antonio, I _do_ bid the best of British to you behind bars."

**..**

**I do not speak any Italian, whatsoever; I don't mind anyone correcting me.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.  
Note: I would be using their character names, mostly. This is an AU fic—a very AU one. Also, I would like to apologize early for any out of character behaviour and/or poor plotting.**

..

_Ah, it's the same person he framed— "Antonio, I do bid the best of British to you behind bars."_

The door suddenly opens to reveal that Feliciano has barged into the room whilst the Englishman was still changing. "Ve, ve~ Are you done yet?"

--

After a few more things to wear and an amusing, but rather chaotic, farewell later, William is now walking alongside Kiku while carrying a few bags in one hand.

The Englishman recalls that the reason of the excitable Italian's behaviour, as finally explained by Ludwig, is only because he likes to see what "people with different body types" (as exactly said from the tallest man) look on his clothes—how very, for the sake of not finding a better word to use, _academic_ that sounds of the situation.

Or as questioned from the nearly forgotten Lovino, "_What the hell is that supposed to mean!?_"

In the end of it all, the Englishman was given the clothes… it would have been something to be grateful about, yes. That is, if not for the fact that he actually had to pay for it. William nearly spent all of his money in hand for that blasted pile of clothes—what's worse is that they only accept cash.

Those cheap bastards—everything summed up to be worth a small fortune!

No one, William distastefully concludes, is thoroughly safe in the hands of a money-making designer and a tight-assed man that actually bothers to make the income (it's easy to imagine what would happen if he weren't around); they might as well be legal thieves— like every other businessman or woman.

Back to the current scene in play, William is now wearing a coat decent enough for the coming winter (as should be pointed out once more, to which it's not for free). The sun has already set, and the cool, early breeze of the next season's evenings could already be felt by everyone around. "I must admit, your friend, Feliciano, is a good bloke…rather daft, though."  
"…Yes."  
"That man—Ludwig, was it?—seems to have this po-faced look plastered on his face."  
"…Yes."  
"It makes you wonder if he ever had a bang… let alone, a good snogging."  
"…Yes"

In the next instant, the Englishman suddenly stops in his tracks in front of a building; Kiku stops a few seconds later and looks at the taller man then the pub's sign with a blank look on his face. Grinning at the Japanese man, it was clear on what William wanted to do—"Do you want to go for a bevvy?"  
"…No."  
"Afraid that you'll get completely arseholed, are you?"  
"…No."  
"Then, let's go inside."

As William enters the pub with a smile across his face, the Japanese man soon thinks of leaving the other and head back home (and lock the door); Kiku might as well do so, but that means that he'll be rude to the other man—though, didn't he decline whatever the Englishman's offer was?

Was he being challenged when the other asked about being afraid of… what was that… getting arseholed? Kiku concludes that he must have unknowingly accepted this dare since the other is still insisting that the two of them should get inside.

In all honesty, the Japanese man has a _bit_ of a rough time understanding what the other was saying.

Kiku looks up at the sign of the building again, quietly sighs, and then follows the Englishman into the pub. Hopefully, what the other meant by what he said is something related to just drinking a glass of beer and going home with no trouble.

--

What time is it, now?

Kiku could only guess it to be reasonably late since he and William stayed in the pub for quite a while. It must have been around a time when the place was about to close down; the barman was already telling people to go home, already.

Most of the things that he and William talked about back there (rather, listening to what the taller man blurted out as more pints of beer come flowing in) was of how much of a bitch life could be and complaining about his job and a number of people that the Japanese man obviously doesn't know of.

"Alfred is a bloody _idiot_, Matthew _hardly_ shows up for work, and that damn Frenchman is… well, a _damn Frenchman_," the Englishman would say—every five minutes or so.

Apparently, Kiku found out, the Englishman works as an officer of some sort—"I'm really a secret agent, but I'm in-hiding, right now." he whispered; he even showed a _very_ convincing badge to Kiku as proof. Still not sure whether he was being played with or not (the Englishman _was_ somewhat tipsy at the time), Kiku thought best to just go along with the other.

To be honest, actually, there was truth in his voice. Never mind, then.

For the rest of the time inside that pub, other people around the two could have sworn that the Englishman was miserable enough to kill himself; Kiku thought not. As a random, kind soul goes up to William (probably to console him) he ends up getting knocked out unconscious by the same William Craig who was just mumbling on how things were so very much unfair to him.

At that moment, the Englishman tried to pick fights with the others in the pub. Because of this, he and Kiku got kicked out of the building before a serious fight broke out.

Now, the once depressed and pitiful Englishman is all smiles and breaks into some song with his voice terribly out-of-tune.

"—_I 'ad sixteen beeersh an' deshi'ed t'ave a fight—!_" William sings merrily in his heavy drunken stupor as he unsteadily walks beside a (tipsy) Kiku. The bags of clothes are now in the smaller man's possession since that's practically the only thing he could do rather than supporting the other.

"Did you shee tha' git's face when I tol' 'im tha' his '_beer'_ was worshe tha' _lager_? 'Is ears w're shooting steam out, 'e was." The Englishman laughs loudly and rather obnoxiously, clearly having no thought for the people who were most likely sleeping.

"—_I'm rolling d'wn th'shtairs_—", he sings again, quickly forgetting what he just said.

"—_I'm too drunk to fuck—too drunk…to fuck_—_I'm too drunk, too drunk, too drunk to fuck!"_ The Englishman sings a little more loudly.

An unknown silhouette quickly walks by, but Kiku could tell that that passerby was looking at them. When the person's footsteps become more distant, a small laugh could be heard from the shadow. The smaller slightly blushes when he realises that the laugh was meant to be at them—embarrassing.

The Japanese soon regrets not heading home without the other man beside him.

William suddenly grabs the other's arm to pull him into another direction. One of the bags that Kiku was holding onto drops unceremoniously to the floor; soon, all of the bags, previously carried, now shamelessly lay on the ground.

William begins to hum the tune of the song in place of the lyrics that he has forgotten. "_—It's all I need righ' now, oh baby—!_" he sing once more, but it sounded more of a mumble than anything else.

Before he could try and get away from the other's grasp, William has already pinned the smaller man against a wall; the cool feel from the brick wall slowly bites into his back. The Englishman holds Kiku's wrists above their heads and moves his body closer.

Kiku looks up at the taller man to see a smug grin— he, unmoving, stares on at the other in wonder… almost like when they first met.

"…_too drunk to fuck_," whispers the Englishman and then closes the gap between he and the other man.

**..**

"**Too Drunk to Fuck" by Sex Pistols**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.  
Note: I would be using their character names, mostly. This is an AU fic—a very AU one. Also, I would like to apologize early for any out of character behaviour and/or poor plotting.**

..

"…_too drunk to fuck," whispers the Englishman and then closes the gap between he and the other man._

Neither of them moved; it was as if they are statues who will forever more stay as they are. Though time had not stopped at that moment, the smaller man feels as if it's so. His eyes are wide open, yet he doesn't see anything but a dark blur—his mind has wandered off.

William releases his hold on the smaller man's wrists and embraces the other; their lips are still against one another's (the intimate feel seems only to be coming from the drunken Englishman), and Kiku's arms still have themselves above his head. The Japanese man blinks a few times, but it looks to be as if his mind is still somewhere far away.

An empty feel soon replaces the Englishman's warmth, and the other begins to come back into reality; he sees William walking unsteadily (but more balanced that a few minutes ago) towards the fallen bags and picks them up, one-by-one.

Kiku remains where he stands as he watches the other pick up the last bag on the floor. William then looks back at the smaller man with a ghost of a smile on his face and cheeks slightly coloured.

--

William frowns deeply as he sits up in his leather couch; he rubs his temple with one hand as he uses the other to help himself up to get something to eat. His head throbs irritatingly a few seconds later; an area of his back and one side of his neck dares to become sore as a result from the way he was sleeping in last... why is he not in his bed, again?

Ah yes, someone else is using it.

What time is it?

It's somewhere past noon—his stomach mumbles incoherent complaints.

He grudgingly walks over to the kitchen and looks for something that won't need much effort to prepare—he finds an unopened box filled with packets of instant coffee. Desperate to find anything else, the box in his hand (other than raw foods in the refrigerator) is the only other damn thing he could easily make. Grumbling about having a 'disgusting brew of sludge' in the morning, he hears, in his perspective, an unbearable noise of someone stomping down in the flat's stairways.

The Englishman turns to see Kiku coming over to the kitchen; William, with already a steaming cup of coffee in hand, steps out and sits on one of the chairs by the dining table (one person can only fit in that small space, really). He sets the mug down and props his head on his palm and has his elbow on the table—"We've never really talked about you staying in my flat, have we?"

Kiku stops what he is doing (which is making himself a complete meal consisting on rice, fish, soup, vegetables, and the like) to pause in thought, and then he resumes his personal task—"…I would like you to leave, please."  
"These really _are_ my things, remember."  
"I will do my best to take care of them."  
"In all matters to consider into, you're actually _tres_passing in my property."  
"It has been sold—"  
"—without my permission. Therefore, making your stay illegal."  
"…There are rules meant to be followed in here…"  
"All of that is locked away and out of reach inside that old bastard's mind, I assure you."

An irritating tension arises between the two; Kiku proceeds to cook the fish in the overwrought atmosphere as if it wasn't there or couldn't be felt. Leaving the mug untouched, William continues to look at the other with a nearly unreadable expression on his face—the discussion has yet to be settled, it shows.

The Japanese man finishes with his cooking and goes over to the table to eat. William has not looked at anywhere (or anything) else but him. Kiku sits down in front of the other and eats his food whilst ignoring the man. Halfway through his meal, the smaller man sets his chopsticks at the side of his bowl and looks at the Englishman. "I find no reason for you to keep looking at me."

"This is but a free world, love," he smiles… then looks as if he realises something… then looks away with his face turned red… then (impulsively) drinks from his mug and makes a noise of disgust.

In turn, without really understanding what was wrong with the other, Kiku stares at the Englishman. William suddenly stands up and walks over to the kitchen sink and pours out the contents from the mug of cold coffee directly on the drain.

After he sees the other leave the apartment, Kiku continues to eat his meal. The smaller man has not heard the other's reply, it seems.

--

As William heads out of the complex, his headache has somewhat lessened from his damned hangover; he regrets ever having to drink so much. He has only walked a step or two away until he meets up with the neighbour—"It's nice to see you again, George," the woman greets with a kind smile; she is carrying a bag of groceries—four bottles of wine are the ones that immediately catch the Englishman's attention.  
"Having a party, are we?"  
"You can come over, if you like."  
"I've had my fair share last night…"  
"In case you feel like drinking more, then."

Without a chance for the other to say anything—she must be in a hurry, the woman has already walked away from the Englishman. Looking ahead of him, as if on cue, there walking towards him is a man slightly taller than him—"I thought you still had something to do in Spain, _non_?"

Ah, yes… the bloody _French_man.

Despite the sudden sour look on William's (or should that be George's?) face as he sees the other, the Englishman waits for the man to stop at a near distance from him; a familiar yet loathsome air is soon surrounding the two. The other man decides to start the conversation once more— "What are you doing here in Italy?"  
"I should be asking you the same thing."  
"Unlike _you_, I have many parties to attend to—"  
"Fucking every person in sight, you mean."

The other man glares at the Englishman in annoyance; William also glares at the other in the same manner. "Speaking of which, _andouille_, how was that boy?"  
"…What—"  
"_Ne me prends pas pour un imbécile_… you were singing that _awful_ song beside him."

William thinks of the times where he had last met the other in front of him… that would be a few months ago, he believed; it was before he was told to go over to Spain and investigate about a man with a long list of criminal deeds (aside from the already known acts of theft and fraud, there's actually a few acts of murder committed).

The whole thing is rather amusing for the Englishman, really.

After all, this 'unknown man' is actually none other than himself…very amusing, in_deed_. He could laugh right now if it wasn't for the Frenchman in front of him.

William casts that thought aside and digs deeper into his mind to suddenly remember a gist of what happened last night. It's a bit muddled, but he recalls—his eyes widen in disbelief and his face colours again. The other man sees this and smiles languidly. "_Je le savais_."  
"N-nothing happened, you git."  
"Ah, not even a _kiss_?"

William scowls at the other in an attempt to prove a point of some sort, but it is soon betrayed by having his own face become a darker shade of red.

"Let us help Elizaveta prepare for tonight's party, _oui?_" The Frenchman suddenly announces then walks with the (embarrassed) other back inside the complex.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.  
Note: I would be using their character names, mostly. This is an AU fic—a very AU one. Also, I would like to apologize early for any out of character behaviour and/or poor plotting.**

..

"_Let us help Elizaveta prepare for tonight's party, oui?" The Frenchman suddenly announces then walks with the (embarrassed) other back inside the complex._

--

Retreating to the couch at one side of the room, the Englishman has reluctantly found himself lucky enough to have escaped being questioned on the spot; he was reluctant to admit it since it was Françis who helped him out of the situation.

As it turns out, Elizaveta occasionally works for Feliciano by taking photos of a number of his models. Well it's not much of a surprise to William since she _is_ a freelance photographer, but he thought that her last project would '_take at least ten centuries to grow tired of_'.

Anyways, it just so happens to be that Feliciano has been invited over and brought along with him: Ludwig and Kiku. Nothing seems to be much of a problem since they all knew who William is, yes; it's just that when the Italian had called the Englishman: "William", Elizaveta instantly asked why it's not "George".

How is he supposed to remember every damn name he uses—let alone know every friend and relative of a person whom he has no trouble lying to?

To make a long story short, Françis shamelessly announced that William has this weird quirk of using his '_intimate'_ name—may he succumb to the demons from the darkest corners of hell —when introducing himself to women. Fortunately enough, no more questions have been asked and all curiosity becomes satisfied (though an incredulous look appears on Ludwig's face).

The Englishman sighs to himself and does not notice Kiku sitting down beside him. William glances at the can of beer in his hand and looks at it as if unsure whether to drink from it or not; he decides to take a small sip but is careful to make sure not to be tempted to finish it and go for another (this is his first can, even—how strong his will is!). He'd rather not have two consecutive hangovers to deal with.

His eyes drift over to a small pile of empty cans and long-before finished wine bottles, and he takes another tiny nip whilst pretending that he is drinking a large mouthful of warm beer; he's failing.

In the room, there are at least eight or nine people inside. Aside from the people he thought of, William was able to meet Elizaveta's ex-husband, Roderich, and sees a familiar face known best as one of Françis' old friends (and is actually Ludwig's brother), Gilbert.

"It's a small world…" the Englishman comments to himself with a slight musical tone that comes with it. Kiku has heard what is said but knows that William does not notice him, so he does nothing but look at the others alongside the taller man and silently agree.

Françis and Gilbert are currently harassing Roderich (sexually by one and in a mocking manner by the other). Elizaveta was just having a conversation with an underwear-clad Feliciano then has turned her attention to Gilbert and is now beating him into a bloody pulp—Françis steps aside, knowing better.

Feliciano is now complaining about the room still being too hot and tries to take off the last remaining bit of clothing he has, but the Italian is soon stopped by the remarkably sober Ludwig; sighing to himself (either in another feel of relief or annoyance), the German man opens and finishes his hundredth can of beer while trying to keep a close eye on the carefree brunet.

Feliciano soon whines about being too cold and somehow manages to take and wear the shirt of a red-faced Ludwig. Gilbert, who seems to have miraculously healed, is now shouting words in drunken German (profanities, no doubt); more words and obnoxious laughter is heard from him as Feliciano carelessly sits on Ludwig's lap and sleeps against the man's bare chest—a sudden flash of a camera easily tells that Elizaveta has taken a photo.

It is then that William finally understands why the woman finds time to work for the oblivious Italian.

How sly of her; in her own words: "a chance that's right in front of you".

--

The hours of repetitive incidents consisting many more of Gilbert's teasing, Elizaveta punching the former, and Roderich being the whole cause of it has stretched far enough for the Englishman to call it a night. As he is about to stand up, Feliciano, who awoke only a few minutes ago, walks past his side and talks to the now noticed Kiku— "Ve ve~ Let's go to your place, ok?"

William stiffens slightly as the Japanese man looks to him with a blank look on his face; if one looks more closely at that expression, they could see that Kiku is asking: 'Is it alright with you?'. Without even having the chance to reply to the thought-to-be-discreet question, Feliciano also turns his head to look at the taller man. "Is something wrong?" the Italian asks innocently.  
"N-nothing's the matter. It's just that…well, you see…"  
"Are you living together?"

Out of nowhere, Françis—"So _this_ is the one you were with last night, _hmm_? I knew that I saw him somewhere before," a mischievous smile appears on his face (much to William's chagrin). Feliciano is left slightly agape and slowly looks back and forth between the now blushing Kiku and the Englishman; he breaks into a wide smile and hugs the smallest man—"Oh, Kiku, how come you never told me? I'm _so_ _happy_ for you!"

Before they knew it, William and Kiku are pushed out of Elizaveta's apartment.

The Englishman dares to look behind and catches a glimpse of the only woman inside smiling (rather creepily) at them. Françis, as if pushing people into rooms is something that's absolutely a must to do, leads them into the other two's own apartment. He doesn't stop there, though; he continues to guide them towards the bedroom.

"Have fun, you two," the Frenchman says perversely before the door is completely closed on them. William buries his face in one hand while Kiku is looking at a random corner of the room.

--

Françis sits on the foot of the stairs and pulls out a small notebook—he opens it and flips through the pages of scrawled and not-so-scrawled French (some are in English and other languages that he has little knowledge of understanding). He stops at one of the many dog-eared pages and skims the information in the badly lit stairway.

The man takes out a pen from his pocket as he reads over a list of names under a boldly written: '_Suspects_'. He goes over a number of names already overlapped with lines and scribbles that obviously mean that they have been crossed out—

The name: '_Antonio_' that was once encircled is now being scribbled out.

Françis suddenly stands and walks up to the bedroom at the top of the steps; he opens the door to find the two sleeping on the bed, but they are facing towards opposite sides and are very much apart from each other—how odd.

The Frenchman, thinking that they must have had a lover's spat since before the party, looks back at his notebook and writes: '_Arthur_' at the bottom of the list and encircles it. He sighs to himself. Looking back at the two, he soon finds the Englishman pulling Kiku into a loose embrace. Françis nearly laughs in amusement and is already on his way out of the apartment.

Walking away from the complex, the Frenchman finally decides to give his co-worker some more time to him and his lover… before poor "William" gets sentenced to life imprisonment, anyways.

--

Inside the bedroom once more, Arthur no longer has Kiku in his embrace. Instead, he is facing the ceiling whilst holding the other's hand. A few minutes later, the Englishman is sitting up (still intertwining hands with the smaller man). In a sleepy fashion, he looks at Kiku with unconscious, half-opened eyes and kisses the sleeping other. As if struck with a deadly curse, he falls back into sleep but embraces the other again…a bit more tightly, though.

The smaller man did not move an inch, nor has he been stirred awake. A few seconds later, he is snuggling towards the other behind him.

**..**

**Françis knew all along. Ha ha.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.  
Note: I would be using their character names, mostly. This is an AU fic—a very AU one. Also, I would like to apologize early for any out of character behaviour and/or poor plotting.**

..

_The smaller man has not move an inch, nor has he been stirred awake. _

--

The unfamiliar warmth in his chest was the first thing Arthur felt as he woke up from his sleep; he didn't bother to see who it was, but he knew that he was hugging someone. The person hasn't woken up yet, so he'll let the other continue to dream. The Englishman doesn't mind being in his position—it's kind of nice, anyways.

He wants to sleep again. With him already being comfortable with whoever he's embracing, Arthur wants to close his eyes and drift off to the unconscious state he wishes to be in again. He wants to do these things, but he's found himself nuzzling the crook of the other's neck.

A romanticist at heart, is he not?

The Englishman feels the other stirring awake, so he stops; the body becomes rigid soon after. "W-William?" the voice croaks out. Arthur recognizes the voice to be Kiku's but pays no heed to the rational side of him. He does not release his hold on the tense other, nor does he reply to the call of one of his many false names. The man does not think of an excuse as to why he's hugging the smaller man, but he then decides to go over the other. "Good morning, love," he says without thought.

Kiku begins to blush but manages to keep an incredulous glare at the other. Arthur leans in to kiss the other and is successful to make an unresponsive connection. The Englishman brushes his lips on the other's cheek, jaw line… neck then collarbone. All the while he mumbles out: "love bug or cupid's arrow".

The smaller man tries to push the other away; he is rewarded by being able to straddle the man. The words of demanding questions and slight accusations fill his mind, but he could not speak them out. Taking the opportunity of the stillness occurring, Arthur pulls the other in for another kiss.

He feels uncomfortable and unfamiliar, yet Kiku finds himself returning the gesture. He tightly clutches onto the other's shirt while Arthur's hands find their place by cupping the smaller man's face. The two roll over, and the Englishman is on top once more.

The kiss deepens as Arthur licks the other's lips open. Both of their faces colour (with Kiku's being darker). The smaller man is surely busy with kissing the other, for he doesn't feel the slow, repetitive tugs at the hem of both his pants and underwear.

--

Sitting at a table, there sit two men; both have blond hair and glasses, and they also seem identical to one another in looks (but not much on build). One of them, the one with blue eyes, is holding up a piece of paper with an intricate symbol on the top of it. As the man finishes what turns out to be a report, he notes the signature that reads out as a fancy, loopy '_Françis_'.

With a sigh of small disbelief, he tosses the paper so that it slides towards the other sitting down with him. "It's Arthur all along, who knew?" he doesn't look as if he's talking to the other in the room but more to himself. "A juvenile delinquent in his earlier years, and then off to be a master criminal. We're screwed if anyone else 'ere found out—he's even in _my_ unit!"

The man stands up and finally sees the other in the room; he jumps. "Woah. Mattie, when did you come in?" The other man is only halfway through the report then looks up—"…Been here for three hour—"  
"Never mind. Get ready 'cause we're going to Italy."

He walks over to the door and picks up a bomber jacket that was hanging up in a hook. He smiles broadly and heads out whilst saying: "I'll show that old man not to mess around with the hero."

The man left in the room stands up as well, but he does not go over to the direction that the other has gone to. Instead, he goes over to where the other was sitting and picks up the forgotten ID card that also has the same symbol as the report and reads out: '_Alfred F. Jones_'.

Alfred should be stuck in the security crossing, right about now. The other decided best to hurry before anything happens… like the last, oh, sixty times or so.

--

The two of them are sitting on the bed, and Kiku refuses to show his face to the Englishman. The smaller man has buried his face with both of his hands, and it seems like they have been glued together. His face is as red as it could possibly be—even the tips of his ears are beginning to colour. Arthur tries his best to comfort the other by hugging him and saying sweet nothings, but that has made the other all the more embarrassed.

Both of them are stark naked, by the way.

As Arthur rests his chin on the other's shoulder, his mind drifts off in the silence around them. He knows that Françis is here for him, and there is no doubt that Alfred and Matthew will know about this—it takes at least two or three days from the place he last heard of them from (which is about three weeks ago, so they still might be there). Even if he was risking himself by working with people he practically knew for his whole life, it was part of this game he made up a long time ago.

A few points for breaking in, another few for stealing treasures and misplacing them, a larger amount of points for joining one of the law enforcement careers, another large sum for being able to get away with any criminal deed while on the job to investigate another… ever since he was a lad has he planned this game since he had no one else to play with.

He remembers all the things he stole that is yet to be found. "Look into more museums and nurseries, you clueless twits. Everything is there," he'd always say to the newspapers and anchormen on the news. He doesn't keep the old relics because he has no other use for them, obviously. It's all the more stupid to sell them and expose yourself when you could just frame others— like Antonio, for example.

He and the oblivious git knew each other when they were in their teens. Arthur smirks triumphantly at the times he'd bully the other. "I didn't like him, anyways," is what he said.

He then recalls every name of whom he murdered—he had no choice, really… they were going to expose him. It's too early to lose. They weren't even close to him, so it's alright. A small unsettlement in the pit of his stomach unnerves him as an echo of screams is briefly heard in his mind.

Arthur frowns deeply and buries his face on the same crook of Kiku's neck; he nearly smiles as he felt the other shiver slightly. He has (somewhat) become like that insane man, who is he again? Ah, yes… Ivan Bra-something.

Maybe after all of this is over, he will turn into a 'full-time gentleman' and become sickeningly saintly. He might as well do _that_ as he becomes old, fat and fifty. He shall call his current behaviour… his "Pirate Phase". Yes, a suitable term to clearly explain it all.

Arthur places a lingering kiss on the pale shoulder blade of the other in his arms. He gets out of bed and only bothers to wear a pair of pants. The Englishman looks back to the still-embarrassed Kiku and immediately decides to go back to bed. He kisses one hand and, like magic, is able to remove both hands from the other's face. The smaller man has resorted to closing his eyes as if it was a much better plan than using his hands to hide away—how adorably stubborn.

When Arthur kisses Kiku once more, they are at it again.

The Englishman decides that he will leave Italy tomorrow, so let it be known that he will fuck the other until the clock strikes noon (he has to make arrangements, after all). He glances at the wall clock of the room and sees that it's only seven in the morning.

A faint mewl is heard from Kiku as Arthur moves his hands on the other down…down…down.

This might be the last time they'll ever see each other again.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.  
Note: I would be using their character names, mostly. This is an AU fic—a very AU one. Also, I would like to apologize early for any out of character behaviour and/or poor plotting.**

..

_This might be the last time they'll ever see each other again._

--

On his way towards a nearby travel agency, Arthur is still deciding where to go. He mustn't go somewhere daftly obvious, of course. In his mind he makes a mental list—the UK, France, the rest of Europe and America are quickly crossed out.

If he were to go over to the UK, Alfred will definitely follow after since it's an obvious choice; if he goes over to France, Françis would hear of him from the many people he knows there; if he were to hide in anywhere else in Europe, Matthew is sure to find his whereabouts in the next day or two. The thought of travelling all the way to the English mockery that is America is also digging his own grave; he'll stick out like a sore thumb, as people can simply put it.

Surely, he will.

He wants to avoid being in island nations where English is the mother tongue, so Australia and New Zealand are immediately crossed out. Why? It's because they'll think of going to such places next. Their thinking is simple to predict, at times.

The Englishman thinks of going over to Africa and is considering it; he decides to add that to his starting list of options. Arthur thinks of going to Asia, and he also makes it an option since the holidays are coming in a month of two.

Reaching a small building, Arthur is already at the agency's desk and is asking for a ticket. "To where, sir?" the lady with thick, crimson red lipstick asks. Dropping his English accent, Arthur begins to talk like an American. "Do you have a flight to Hong Kong for tomorrow?"  
"One moment, please."

A few seconds with only with the sound of the keyboard—"I'm sorry, sir, but all available flights for tomorrow is cancelled. A storm is expected."  
"…How 'bout today?"

Another moment—"There's one scheduled for seven at night and at—"  
"I'll take it."  
"Your name and passport, sir?"

Arthur takes out an American passport form his wallet and gives it to the other. "Daniel Smith," he says as if it were true. The woman opens the small booklet in her hand, and the same name as he mentioned is read. Nodding her head in affirmation, she goes about and makes a ticket for the escaping man.

--

When the Englishman steps into the complex, he is coincidentally face-to-face with the infamous, old landlord whom he so terribly loathes. The elder looks comical and animated as if he were drawn out of a cartoon. "**YOU!**" he bellows and points an accusing, stubby finger at Arthur. The younger man groans at his terrible luck as the other approaches him in penguin-like strides. "**GET OUT—YOU LIVE HERE NO MORE—OUT!**"  
"Let me just—"  
"**NO.**"

The old man's face is red and, if possible, steam would be shooting out of his ears. He lifts up his fat, sagging arms and pushes Arthur away into the pavement outside; the sudden action makes the Englishman stumble backwards. A small crowd consisting of two small children and a dog looked at the scene with curious, innocent stares—they soon pass by in a hurry as the elder sends them a stern glare.

Standing up as the old landlord walks back into the complex's maze, Arthur dusts himself off with quick, random pats to his pants. There really is nothing else to do but to go to the airport now, but the Englishman hoped that he could tell Kiku that he'd be going off… and probably even admit his real name—no, it's too risky to say.

He thinks of going to the other's workplace; he admits that he's forgotten where it is. Anyways, it's much better to let no one know that you're off when escaping—yes…maybe. Arthur concludes that it's none of Kiku's business as it should be for no one else's.

"Bugger," the Englishman says finally, shrugs and walks off.

--

Françis knocks on the apartment's door; no one is opening it nor is there any footsteps heard inside. The man's mind drifts off to the possibility that they are having sex—he doesn't think so; it's too late (or too early, whichever one prefers to think of it at two in the afternoon). Then he reminds himself what Arthur is sometimes like… it probably must be the case, then.

He tries to knock once more but a little more loudly. Still, there seems to be no other inside. The man looks around and sees Elizaveta about to head out. "Elizaveta, _ma chѐre_, are those two inside?" he points nonchalantly at the door of the couple whilst asking.

The woman turns to face the other and Françis is greeted with heavy eyes with dark circles around and a ghost of a particular smile that comes about after recording (or taking a photo) of something involving two men doing things to one another. She's been editing a video of the sort, the Frenchman concludes.

What he didn't know is who it was about. He left after shoving Arthur and Kiku into their room, remember?

"Kiku went out, but I think George also left because old Mario found him," she sounds a little sleepy yet completely satisfied of something; whatever she managed to record must be good. Almost impulsively, he asks for it.

"I still need to finish the third one, though," she agrees.

--

Sitting by the American in the few seats seen in the plane's first-class area, Matthew is trying to eat his tiny strawberry short cake with thick vanilla cream and four whole strawberries on top. He is trying to because Alfred won't stop playing a race car driving game; the other's body would move and bend as he would make a sharp turn or is driving along in a long curve. The headphones he wears gives off a muffled sound that tells that the volume is a little high up.

Matthew glances at the other and sees the confident, rather oblivious smile that usually graces his features. All the man's concentration is on the game and on nothing else. At first glance, Alfred is an immature goofball; he makes up for it every now and then (he is the unit's leader, after all).

Right now, unfortunately, this time is where you cannot see any of such things.

The Canadian is finally able to take a bite as Alfred is racing in a straight road; it was a hasty action, though. He doesn't notice the small smudge of cream at the corner of his mouth. As he tries to take another bite, Alfred abruptly moves his elbow up and the piece of cake hits Matthew in the face. Sighing to himself, the Canadian stands up to wash it off.

When he comes back, his cake is partially gone. Alfred has just raced through the finish line. Matthew sits down and ignores the obvious culprit beside him. As he picks up the icing-tipped fork, the other's hand flashes from the cake and towards him.

Once more, Matthew has icing on his face; a little bit is on his cheek and on the tip of his nose. "You gotta be quick, Mattie. 'Else they'll get you." Alfred chuckles then grabs a strawberry and eats it. He licks off the icing from his fingertips, and he turns back to the game so that he may start another three laps of virtual fun.

Matthew stands up to wash his face again but not before he eats two more bites of his sugary treat.


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.  
Note: I would be using their character names, mostly. This is an AU fic—a very AU one. Also, I would like to apologize early for any out of character behaviour and/or poor plotting.**

..

_Matthew stands up to wash his face again but not before he eats two more bites of his sugary treat._

--

Not in the great room; not in the bedroom, either. 'He must have gone out then,' Kiku thought. He goes into the bathroom to take a shower but catches an inevitable glimpse of the wide bed and blushes. There is nothing wrong with having sex with a… man— he tries to forget it, and he is able to do so in a remarkable record.

He locks the door behind him and faces the spotless, white tub. He lifts his shirt up but stops and lowers it back to its original state. Kiku tries to forget once more, and he is also able to do so. He strips his clothes off and goes in to take his well-deserved shower.

Aside from this morning (he is careful not to remember the biggest highlight at the time), everything was simply tiresome. Feliciano claims to have a heavy hangover and skips work entirely; coincidentally, maybe the reason why the Italian hadn't come, Ludwig appears to be in a more than usual terrible mood and paperwork seems to be stacked much higher than usual.

But in truth, the taller man wasn't mad because of Feliciano. It was because Elizaveta had come in to ask for something. Kiku didn't hear what it was since she had wanted to talk about it in private. After the whole thing, the Hungarian woman was smiling gratefully but had a bit of a scared look on her face.

And, of course, goes back to the fact that Ludwig was not in his most usual of grumpy moods.

The Japanese man stops in his thoughts as he is done with his shower. He dries up with a towel and stops at when he reaches for the doorknob. He closes his eyes. Shall it be a game of not seeing the bed while feeling for your clothes?

No. That's already becoming too childish.

He opens the door almost confidently, and he decides to go to bed after changing. As predicted when he lays down, memories about his moments of… _in_timacy with William floods his mind. Kiku sits up as he finally fails to suppress his thoughts; he lays down again and turns to another side as if it would work—it didn't, of course.

As if pitied by whoever controls his fate or existence, Kiku is finally able to clear his mind and rest. He lays perfectly still as his dreams show no mercy for him.

--

Françis has lost sight of Arthur—he curses and lowers his head in defeat. He walks around and turns at random corners but still finds no sign of the Englishman. The streets are dimming; he only sees an old woman carrying a book with her. Damn it.

It's not easy to chase down a professional undercover agent, he admits to the obvious matter. He changes direction and turns to his left and walks straight on from then. The man decides to wait for the other two to help him. Minutes later, Françis reaches the all-too-familiar apartment complex; he goes in.

He might as well talk to the lover while waiting. But knowing his partner, nothing had been said. Still, though, it's worth trying to. If there really are no leads from talking to the smaller man, then he would just talk to everyone else—as it is one of his fortes.

Well, at least he'll find out if the two's relationship is actually real, fake or a simple fling. He knocks on the door a few times before slow minutes have passed and the door is opened by a sluggish Kiku.

"_Bonjour_," Françis nearly purrs.

**..**

**W-writer's block— I'm stuck, you guys.  
I can't decide on how Françis should tell it to Kiku, or if I even want Françis to reveal it.**

**I'm sorry to say, but this might take a little longer than I thought.  
Keep guessing, though. Ha ha ha.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.  
Note: I would be using their character names, mostly. This is an AU fic—a very AU one. Also, I would like to apologize early for any out of character behaviour and/or poor plotting.**

..

"_Bonjour," Françis nearly purrs._

The Frenchman quickly decides to use Arthur's alias. "Have you seen Will—" he stops and raises his eyebrows as he notices that Kiku has become more awake. The smaller man's face becomes red and he looks down at his feet. The other repeats his question; he is answered with a stuttered "no".

Ah. It's something real, then. The taller man smiles and believes that he has a lead about the running Englishman. Now that he knows about this, it is safe to talk about this more seriously. "May I come in?" Françis is shown inside. He briskly walks in; he turns around just as Kiku closes the door.

"Has Arthur told you where he went?" he immediately asks. Kiku turns to look at the other with a confused expression on his face; sleep has not completely left his mind.  
"Who?"

Françis raises his brows once more.

--

Most of the people in the plane are asleep. The lights still turned on are scattered and dim amongst the sleepy darkness. One of those lights shine on Arthur's seat; the Englishman is looking at a necklace he was able to get ('steal' does not meet up with his standards) from a girl that was as clueless as one can be.

"It is a gift from my brother," she told him politely. The girl was blushing, thinking that the Englishman was flirting with her. As the two of them went off to their own ways, the trinket is already snug inside Arthur's pocket.

The thin, silver chain and the small diamond heart felt like paper; it isn't something fake, no. He could tell what's what. The thing is just so uncomfortably light and delicate. One of his fingers randomly move up and down in the air—

"A gift for the heartbroken woman, hm?" a man beside him grins as if they are already friends. Arthur goes along with it and answered that it is. The stranger laughs a little loudly and stirs awake the few people around them; one is the sleeping person on his other side. The large hat that the previously sleeping other wore falls down to his lap and reveals blond hair that is nearly the colour of snow. It was nearly the same as the smiling man's.

The sleepy one scowls deeply and groggily punches the stranger then goes back to sleep. The Englishman is completely ignored as his seatmate turns his attention to tease his grumpy friend. The grinning man is messing up his friend's hair to match his own hairstyle.

Arthur looks down at his table. A small pixie is moving his finger out of boredom; it almost looks as if it is thinking that something would happen if it did so. The winged creature stops and reaches for the diamond heart to see into it as if it were a mirror. The small thing soon gets tired of it as there is no reflection found and flutters away to the other two beside the Englishman.

Arthur, with nothing else to do, thinks of his past days in Italy; most of his memories are filled with Kiku's image—he makes a small smile. Catching himself thinking of the smaller man, he suddenly frowns. His face turns red at the moments where he hadn't had a clear mind (he would call it nothing else). The Englishman tries to make explanations and reassurances to himself but fails to do so.

He slumps down on his chair as he faintly recalls the feel of the other's touch and shaky breathe. Arthur looks at the diamond heart as if it were to tell him something. Nothing is told, of course. A thought comes to mind, and he tries to think otherwise.

Finally, he's given up. Arthur starts to miss the smaller man.

He's in love with Kiku.

--

Françis looks at the smaller man with slight pity. "He was just using you," he blurts out. Kiku eyes the other incredulously but does not say anything about it; he is already fully awake but the words are vaguely understandable to him. The Frenchman frowns.  
"How…?"  
"He needed to hide somewhere."  
"He used to live here."  
"_Mon ami_, I've known him for a long time."

There is a small, threatening silence in the air (though it doesn't feel like it's coming from either of the two). The both of them are still standing in their places from when Françis has walked into the great room. As more minutes of silence pass by, the Frenchman sighs and excuses himself to go back outside.

"Why is he hiding?" Kiku asks in a monotonous voice and clears the way to the door. Françis studies the other for anything suspicious but decides that it's just mere curiosity. "He's a criminal."  
"What has he done?"  
"Very many things."

Françis walks out as the other says nothing more. He hears an immediate click of the door closing behind him. He turns back to make sure that the door doesn't open again; it doesn't. Not happy with their conversation, the man walks out into the dark streets of another random, romantic Italian night.

--

Kiku slowly walks up the stairs and goes into the bedroom to sleep. The bed is inviting but minutes into it is making him feel otherwise. His mind bitterly swirls of Arthur but he understands the man's actions. Well, he probably does.

The Japanese man mouths the other's real name—it feels strange. This time, he says it aloud—it's still strange but it also pricks him in the inside. His eyes are blank. He feels rather humiliated; he _is_ humiliated. Recurring images of that fateful morning bring him both joy and disgust.

He feels disappointed of something. What is it of? He doesn't really know. It's probably because he has been tricked into loving the Englishman. No, it must be of something else. His feelings for the man weren't love. He is disappointed because his pride and honour as a man is sabotaged.

It was lust; a common animalistic urge that every man has.

It was just a complicate desire…?

Kiku buries his face into the pillow. He turns to the other side of where the Englishman had lay on before. He stares into the empty space as if Arthur would suddenly come in and just be there. The smaller man doesn't like the upsetting feeling in his chest.

His disappointment gradually turns into something darker and deeper. He shuts his eyes as if to tell himself that everything is just a twisted dream.

It is love.


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.  
Note: I would be using their character names, mostly. This is an AU fic—a very AU one. Also, I would like to apologize early for any out of character behaviour and/or poor plotting.**

..

_It is love._

--

He looks at the necklace with an irritated expression. The hot Egyptian sun scorches high up in the air. Only two weeks have passed by and he's nearly been caught once again. He's becoming reckless.

Everywhere in the marketplace, there are hundreds of conniving merchants and thousands of clueless tourists. Arthur quickly pockets the trinket and walks into a random direction. He stops in front of a shop. He doesn't go in after catching a glimpse of the grinning owner looking at him in earnest.

With one hand still in his pocket, Arthur thumbs the small heart. He doesn't understand why he's keeping it; it's supposed to mean nothing to him, really. The Englishman is now contemplating if it's cursed and is actually going with the idea. He sighs.

Something flashes in the corner of his eye. The Englishman turns to what it is and sees a little girl fall onto the dirt road. No other bothers to help the poor child as she struggles to stand whilst ignoring the pain of her skinned knees.

Arthur stares on; the girl the looks back at him. Her eyes remind him of Kiku's. The Englishman curses himself inwardly for thinking like a love-struck fool.

The girl becomes enchanted at the sight of his fake blue eyes and snow-coloured hair. Arthur walks over to her and awkwardly pats her head. The dry, coarse hair nearly tangles up with his fingers. The Englishman is brought back to his sad reality almost immediately.

He walks away. The child follows the odd stranger, curiosity getting the better of her. Her knees are still partially bleeding and blood trickles down her legs to make spotted trails behind her.

--

Kiku wakes up to another Italian morning; it's becoming more and more of a routine as days pass by. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he looks around and realises that he is actually in his workplace. He turns his sight towards the clock and sees that it is sometime after noon.

He looks back at his desk and reads the documents over and over again. Nothing is making sense in his mind, just like every other day since Arthur left. He cradles his head with one hand and closes his eyes, not happy that he is not thinking straight. Feliciano suddenly appears at his side; he makes the other jump slightly. "Are you okay?" he asks. The smaller man tries to smile.  
"I am."  
"Really?"  
"Yes."

Feliciano looks at the other for a moment then smiles brightly and walks away. Kiku sighs to himself and tries to continue working—he is interrupted by the Italian coming back with a cup of coffee in his hand. "Don't look so sad, ok?"  
"…what do you mean?"  
"I'm sure William will come back with open arms and kisses! Don't worry, Kiku."

The Italian continues his oblivious smile; he is not able to see the meaning behind the other's forced one. Feliciano points at Kiku's chest—where the heart is. "You can tell, yes?"

"…yes," the smaller man stares blankly at nothing.

--

The little girl is becoming as annoying as the heat of the sun. He slowly walks to a halt in a fairly empty street. Arthur turns back to see the girl stopping at a distance before him. "What?" he asks with annoyance. The child continues to look at him with a curious stare.

Arthur realises the wounds on the girl's knees. "Hospital," he says. She doesn't understand.

"Doctor," he tries again.

"Heal," he's already feeling like an idiot. Arthur offers his hand to the girl; she boldly accepts it. The two are now looking for a nearby clinic. Minutes later, the child is being carried on the Englishman's back.

**..**

**This would probably go on for another two or three chapters . . . depending if I can think of a proper plot.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.  
Note: I would be using their character names, mostly. This is an AU fic—a very AU one. Also, I would like to apologize early for any out of character behaviour and/or poor plotting.**

+.+

Arthur knocks on the apartment door. He waits patiently as he looks down on the bouquet of flowers in his hand. He doesn't know what to expect from the person living inside; what if another person resides in it? His sources and information were a bit dated, but he would reassure himself that everything was still the same—

Kiku opens the door, surprised at his sudden visitor. There was no heartfelt sigh of relief, no passionate embrace of two lovers, or even a smile etched on either's faces. There was just intolerable silence. Arthur pathetically presents the bouquet of flowers to Kiku. The other accepts the gesture and hints the Englishman to head inside.

"How are you?" Arthur tried to ask, but Kiku remained silent as he reached the table to put the bouquet down. It was only then did he realise his apartment drastically changed. Everything was more suited to Kiku's culture. Arthur wondered how the other got a hold of it.

Five more excruciating minutes of silence was spent before Kiku said anything. Both were standing across each other by the stairs. "I saw you on the news some time ago." Kiku developed, to Arthur's surprise, an English accent. "I've been watching it more often than not," he answers, reading Arthur's mind.

Arthur walks to Kiku, eliminating the large gap between them. "I found someone else." Kiku says it as if to defend from Arthur's advances. "You haven't," says Arthur. Even with Kiku backing up to the wall behind him, the distance between them almost became non-existent. "I do know that you weren't always spending your nights alone, though," he added. Arthur motioned to the stairs, and Kiku said that no one was there. "You aren't as mad at me as I expected you to be." Arthur smiles at the other. "There is nothing to be mad about," Kiku replies.  
"What happened to my furniture?"  
"This is your furniture… I made it look different."

Arthur smiles at Kiku, knowing that he wanted to talk about something else. "As you saw on the news, I was locked up in Egypt for sexually harassing a general's daughter. I didn't do any of it, of course. I was just trying to find a clinic for her skinned knee, but you know how fathers overreact with strangers." Arthur wipes away a tear forming in Kiku's eye. "When they knew who I was, they informed the organisation I work in." Kiku gives a shaky sigh and rests his forehead on Arthur's shoulder. "I could easily escape that place, but something told me not to. Until now, it still bothers me to no end." Arthur embraces Kiku as he feels his shoulder becoming wet. "When I served my stay there, my crew brought me back to headquarters. They kept me bound in a chair and discussed the punishments I should take. Death was one of them." Arthur kisses Kiku's neck, calming him down for a bit. "They decided to let me go under strict supervision since I spent some years in that Egyptian prison; there are men just outside that door. You didn't see them a while ago because I told them to hide for a while." Kiku shudders with a final muted sigh before meeting Arthur's eyes. "But when they let me go, they made sure I worked like a dog before they started to pity me." Kiku smiles and wraps his arms around Arthur's neck. They share an innocent kiss.

"Would you like to go for a walk with me?" Kiku asks. "Are you sure? I'm not as attractive anymore, so I can't make you feel like the most envied person in the world. The years of my youth have finally escaped me." Arthur laughs.  
"You still look like the man I fell for all those years ago."  
"I remember him having more hair than I did."  
"I didn't notice."

Hand in hand, they enjoyed their years of retirement. Friends would look at them and swore that the two of them felt as if nothing happened. Their years of separation seemed non-existent to them.

Two years later, Arthur dies from a slow disease he contracted from prison. It was curable, but he made it his own personal form of punishment and did nothing about it. He died at the age of sixty-eight. Five years after Arthur's death, Kiku dies from a natural death. People knew he could live longer, but his heart couldn't be anymore lonelier. Kiku dies at the age of seventy-three.

The apartment complex will be occupied by a family of five.

Their story is none of our business.

+.+

**Now don't go 'eeew, old people' on me. The ending suited the long hiatus that I unfortunately had with this. I'm sorry for that. The original plan was to have them break-up and whatnot, but I didn't have the heart to do it. I just made them old and happy. Ha ha ha.**

**Thank you for sticking by this story, but I should now move on to another. Please enjoy my future fics. Thank you all for the endearing reviews and support.**

**Take Care,  
SoundsRight**


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